


Calling All Girls

by ursoself-satisfying (catbusfurrever)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Being Walked In On, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sex, Smut, deaky gets a boner, studio mess, they miss each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 19:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbusfurrever/pseuds/ursoself-satisfying
Summary: Roger misses you on tour and has a very naughty idea.





	Calling All Girls

**Author's Note:**

> i take requests n im active on tumblr!! find me @ursoself-satisfying !!!!  
> ok i actually wrote one for roger now and it can be movie or not!! im not specific n i find them both hot!!
> 
> Roger Taylor x f!reader SMUT, can be movie-verse but is not specified 
> 
> A/N: listen i kinda wanna make this into a series like phone sex for all of them maybe not tho just rog n deaky 
> 
> Warnings: so nsfw, its phone sex guys, its all smut, that and some language and maybe voyuerism?

“I miss you so much,” you cooed into the phone, twirling the cord around your fingers as you laid on your back. Your hair was sprawled around your head like a halo and you rubbed your legs together in lonely frustration. You could hear Roger sighed on the other end.

“I know, I miss you too, love, so much,” he said.

“Rog, baby,” you asked, “when do you think you guys will be back?”

“I don’t know, babe, Freddie really wants us to finish the album out here.”

You groan and roll over on your twin sized mattress, sighing deeply. “Is there any way I could come visit you out there? Like,” you bit your lip and played with a loose thread on your comforter, “like a secret little rendezvous or something?” You could hear him chuckle through the speaker. “Listen, Rog, I just- I really need you.” Your words were strung out and soft, punctuated by an airy moan as you stretched yourself out on your soft blankets. Roger made a guttural sound.

“I have got to find a way to get you out here.” You grinned widely and sat up straight.

“I can’t wait! I can’t wait to see you and the boys.”

“But especially me, right?”

“Mm, oh yes, especially you.” You hoped he could visualize your movements as you spread your legs in preparation for your next suggestion. “You know,” you paused, “we could try something right now, if you’re not busy, that is.” You could hear him breathing and the rustle of his clothes. You assumed he was looking around. “Do you wanna know what I’m wearing?” Your voice was low now. Your lover went silent. He was listening intently. You sat in the silence for a moment then broke it with a giggle. “Well, do you?”

Roger breathed heavily, “Yes- Yes! Please, God.”

“Mm, are you alone?” You moaned.

“Oh, doesn’t matter,” he groaned, “I’ll make do. Hold on-” The sound the phone dropping on the floor rang harshly through your ears. You could barely make out what sounded like a door locking before an angelic voice graced your ears again. “Now, what were you telling me?”

He laughed a bit and your heart swelled. “Remember that awful, just- really horrible like black and white plaid you had?”

The consecutive clicks of a zipper hit your ears and you smiled wickedly. “Uhuh-” Roger grunted.

“You didn’t just leave it at my place. I took it ‘cus I hated it so goddamn much. It is the ugliest thing I have ever fucking seen. I got this close to throwing it in the fireplace. I never wanted to see you in it again, it is so hideous-”

“Alright! Kinda killing the mood here, love, and I don’t got long-”

“Sorry, sorry!” You laughed, “Anyway, it still smells like you, and I missed you-

“Is that all you’re wearing?” There was the soft sound of pulling jean against skin that followed his question.

You put down the phone and quickly ripped off your dampened panties and discarded them across the room before picking the conversation back up again. “Now it is,” you replied playfully. With your legs spread and your fingers grazing your chest, tracing circles around your hardened nipples. Feeling your heart beating, you shivered. You closed your eyes and focused on the hot breathing on the other end of the call. “Tell me, Roger,” you paused after using his full name, “where are you right now?”

Roger sat in a spinning chair in one of the recording booths at the band’s temporary home in the countryside. With his blonde hair swept conveniently back, the drummer held the phone to his ear with white knuckles while his other hand was shoved uncomfortably down the front of his unzipped pants. With a deep breath, he replied, “Recording booth.”

“Should I have waited?” You laughed. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to sneak off and fool around in public so it came as no surprise that in your lover’s urgency he locked himself away where he stood to appease his need for you.

There were more sounds of shuffling clothes on his end. He wiggled his hand out of his tight jeans and gripped his already erected shaft. His thumb brushed over the tip of his cock and smeared the leaking clear precum down. Being so far from you for so long left him in quite the fragile state, physically and emotionally. Everytime you called, it only took seconds after hearing your voice for him to get uncomfortably aroused. The other boys lacked no awareness of this. In fact, they were painfully aware of Roger’s need for “alone time” after every conversation with you.

“How hard are you right now?” You asked as your fingers slipped through your wetness. Roger’s shirt hung unbuttoned off one shoulder, pooling around your elbows. While one hand held the phone to your ear still, the other was prodding at your waiting pussy, ignoring the aching coming from your clit, wanting to reach your high with your partner.

“So hard it fucking hurts,” Roger replied, straining. He bucked his hips into his own palm, doing as much as he can without losing your voice. The sweet moans and the slick movements he heard from you kept him on edge. He could picture you there, in your twin bed, ready and wanting for him.

Your skin, he imagined, would be glowing with desire as he looked down at you. The morning light wafting in from your bedroom window would cast shadows across your breasts and the curves of your stomach, mimicking the rolling waves along the coast. The light is the ever stretching ocean and you, your skin, the soft, warm, welcoming sand. You would already be glistening with anticipation as you watched him take in your divine image.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “I need you so bad. I wish you were here. We have to get you out here.” His fantasies could only satiate him for so long. He required the real thing. He needed you to really be there to satisfy him.

Roger was so fucking hot when he cursed. “Ah, that’s what I’ve been saying, babe,” you moaned and let your fingers penetrate your entrance for the first time. Your head fell back and you relaxed a bit after positioning yourself to balance the phone on your shoulder in order to make full use of all your ten working fingers. Your now free hand shot straight to your clit, rubbing in soft circles. Slowly at first, you let yourself heat up, anticipating a boiling point, controlling your progress.

Roger, on the other hand, was impatient and needy. He was burning up as his hand rapidly slid up and down his firm length. Every once in a while he would slow down, out of breath, and trace the beating veins lining his shaft, never disconnecting, but wanting to elongate the experience.

He pictured you again, but this time the two of you were further along in the fantasy. You were blanketed in sweat, most likely a mix of both of yours, as Roger pounded into you. For the first lovemaking session after a long separation, he always wanted to be able to see your face the whole time. You were so soft to him. He was so- He felt so sharp on the inside in some ways. You were his foil. You were padding when he was a hard fall from a ten story building. He could practically feel his hands gliding down your sides as he increased the speed at which he rubbed himself off. Your hair clung to your head and he was already inside you pushing in and out with ease and pleasure, mesmerized by the bounce of your tits and the expression on your face after every thrust. Reality mimicked his dream’s pace as he sat exposed in the booth with his eyes closed, clinging to the phone, to you, desperately.

Images passed through your brain as well, and though they did the same for you as Roger’s did for him, yours were definitely of a different kind. Roger was under you this time. He was needy and lustful. The room was dark as you would lower yourself down on him, holding his hands to your thighs. Ideally, he would squeeze tight enough to leave bruises of fingerprints between your legs. Soft, blonde hair spread like a halo above his head would cover your pillow. Your fingers would get lost in it until it was pulled up to allow your lips to meet his.

Full, you would be so full of him in every way. Skin mapped with hickies and bites, blotted all over like coffee stains on an unfinished manuscript. Physically you wanted him inside you, to squeeze around his girth and hold his face in your hands, his body in your arms. You wanted to look into his baby blue, long-lashed eyes and be so filled with love for him you couldn’t stand it.

You could see him moaning your name in ecstasy, calling you the greatest high he’s ever had. His eyes, oh, his eyes, would flutter shut and his beautiful mouth would slip open into a soft little o-shape. He looks like an angel there beneath you. To be above something so holy beautiful as obscenities drip from its mouth was such an illicit experience. Nothing turned you on more than Roger Taylor at his most exposed moment, just for you.

The temperature of your sex rose as you thought more about bouncing above your favorite band member in increasingly lewd ways and you felt yourself reach your boiling point. Your fingers sped up and furiously pumped in and out between your folds, back and forth, simultaneously brushing across your clit madly. “Oh my God, Roger-” You were cut off by your own moans. “God, Roger, I’m-”

“Fuck, [Y/N], me too-” The grunts escaping the drummer’s mouth swirled in harmony with your own. As you climaxed, you stretched your neck and arched your back, forgetting the phone as it bounced on the mattress. Roger came, white threads spewing from his tip onto his shirt. His hands milked his member until he came shaking down from his high. Your hands were soaked in your own juices as you slowly, stiffly, pulled away from your core. The room was at capacity with the sweet hot smell of sex in the afternoon. The salty scent of sweat floated through the recording booth where Roger sat slouched and covered in his own mess. He put down the phone and peeled off his shirt, using it to wipe any remaining stickiness that may have transferred to the chair or his face. He picked up the phone again. “Love?”

Heavy breathing echoed in your head as your body felt warmed from the inside out. You stretched and sucked the satisfaction off one of your middle fingers before wiping your hands on the sweat-soaked shirt that still barely clung to your limbs. Reaching for the phone, you hummed, content. “Rog?”

“[Y/N]?” He cooed back. He was the first to laugh, just a small chuckle, one you found sexy.

“Maybe I shouldn’t come around, huh?” You smiled, softly laughing back.

“No-! No, darling, please-” Roger quickly interjected.

“Relax! I’ll come out as soon as I can!” Laughing, you comforted your lover. “I miss you too much not to. Plus, I can only do so much with two hands, even as talented as I am.”

Roger hummed back. “I can’t wait to-”

“Oi, Rog! You done phone-fucking your girlfriend yet?” A voice yelled through the door.

There was a bang then another voice. “I’m sorry, darling, but we’ve got a whole ‘nother song to record and as fascinating as the boys and I think those nice little sounds you make are, we’re not putting them on the album!”

You held back your amusement. Roger, clearly upset, mumbled angrily into the phone. “God, I can’t fucking- I’ll call you later, babe. I love you.”

“I love you, too-” You’d barely finished before he slammed the phone down and hung up. Sighing, you laid back into Roger’s horrible, ugly, damp, defiled shirt and pulled it around you. It wasn’t a proper substitute for his presence but it made you feel a little less alone. Still coming down from your orgasm, you pulled your blankets over you and let the euphoria pull you into a lovely afternoon nap. You drifted off dreaming of seeing your lover again, as soon as possible.

Roger yanked the recording booth door open with a force that gone unchecked could have pulled it off its hinges. His three bandmates, who had been listening and leaning against the said door, nearly collapsed at his appearance. The drummer stood in all his shirtless glory, sweaty and disheveled, holding his balled up shirt tightly in front of his pants. “Sick fucks really gotta listen in on my private time?”

Freddie grinned mischievously, “Studio booth, studio time, darling, it’s that simple.”

Brian held up his hands and stepped away from his furious bandmate. The rampaging blonde scoffed and pushed violently past the boys. “Next time just jump in, why don’t you?” He yelled back at them.

“I do love a good orgy.” Freddie turned back to their string section and shook his head waving them off. Brian stuck his large curly head through the door to the booth and examined it without entering, a disgusted look frozen on his face. He swats at his nose and walks away following the vocalist to the kitchen. John adjusts his pants, pulling at his groin with a very uncomfortable expression. Waddling, he heads in the opposite direction to his room.


End file.
